


I Still Need You

by hmichelle1294



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 08:52:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3243653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hmichelle1294/pseuds/hmichelle1294
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Bellamy, you have to wake up.”</p>
<p>But even though, logically, Bellamy knew he was hallucinating, knew he was still in that horrible cage, or even worse back on ‘the table’, he could still enjoy the hallucination.  He felt like he was lying on furs, he was hearing Clarke’s voice, and he could almost smell her, almost feel her fingers in his hair.  Yes, this was a damn good hallucination, and he planned to stay here for a while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Still Need You

“Bellamy?”  
He heard the voice, her voice, but he couldn’t respond. Whether he was too weak to actually speak or he was just afraid to answer and discover it wasn’t real, he wasn’t entirely sure. But something kept his lips sealed shut.  
And his eyes, his eyes wouldn’t open either. God, he was so tired. Having your hip drilled into multiple times without a sedative will do that to you. Having three-or was it four he couldn’t recall-bone marrow samples removed from you will do that to you. Being cramped in a cage two sizes too small for you without food or water for days will do that to you. And because he was so tired, because of everything, he should probably know this isn’t real. This must be a hallucination. No other explanation. Nobody was coming.  
“Bellamy, you have to wake up.”  
But even though, logically, Bellamy knew he was hallucinating, knew he was still in that horrible cage, or even worse back on ‘the table’, he could still enjoy the hallucination. He felt like he was lying on furs, he was hearing Clarke’s voice, and he could almost smell her, almost feel her fingers in his hair. Yes, this was a damn good hallucination, and he planned to stay here for a while.  
“Bellamy, please.”  
He just listened. He just absorbed the crack in her voice when she uttered the ‘please’, the breaking that made it sound like she still cared. Like she could feel about him how he felt about her. He knew in reality that she didn’t. She had sent him here to die.  
“Dammit, when I said I couldn’t lose you too I meant it. I can’t do it. You, Bellamy, you can’t do that to me. Please. God, please.”  
But here, he could smell her, feel her rough hands on his jaw, hear her begging him to come back. And that was getting him through.  
“If you don’t pull through then I don’t know how I can keep going. Fuck, Bellamy, dammit. You’re my only weakness. You are the only weak spot I have.”  
Weakness. When she had sent him to this hell, she had said that. That she was being weak trying to keep him with her. He still hadn’t known what she meant. That part confused him. Weak? She was being weak? Had Clarke Griffin ever been weak in her life? Even when she was vulnerable, she did it with this strength that Bellamy just couldn’t understand, could not wrap his brain around. But she had sent him away, claiming it was weak to keep him from going.  
“Lexa said love was weakness and that should have been fine because my dad is dead, my mother killed him, Wells is dead, and Finn is dead. Everyone that made me weak should have been out of the picture. I should have been able to just shut everyone out and never love again and it would have been fine. But you…fuck you for already being under my skin and fuck you for making me weak and fuck you especially for not letting me let you go. I thought sending you to Mount Weather would help, that the separation would help, that if I acted like I didn’t I wouldn’t. But I do. And if you don’t make it then I won’t either so you had better wake up dammit.”  
Weakness. Love? Love is weakness…if he didn’t know any better, he would think his brain was trying desperately to make excuses for Clarke. But if this was a dream, she would have said it, all of it, all at once. He knew because he so desperately wanted her to. But the real Clarke, she would have said something like that. She would have beat around the bush, refused to use that word, because she was terrified of the connotations, of the consequences, of what would come next. This sounded like Clarke, his Clarke.  
And he was beginning to feel her touch more firmly, and smell her more strongly, and he heard even more voices and movement beyond just himself and Clarke. Everything was slowly feeling more real and his head was pounding. He held his breath, prepared himself, and opened his eyes.  
Clarke was there, one hand still cupping his cheek, the other over her eyes as if she had a headache. His head was in her lap, and they were in a tent. They were out. He was out.  
And this was all real.  
“I still need you.”  
Her hand was still over her eyes, she didn’t see his looking up at her. So he gingerly reached up and pulled her hand away, intertwining their fingers as he pulled them back down to his chest.  
Her eyes stayed squeezed shut, and she bit her lower lip. He know what she was thinking, because he had just been thinking it. She didn’t want to open her eyes, see someone else’s calloused hand gripping hers in comfort, see Bellamy still lifeless in her lap.  
“Bellamy?”  
She barely whispered the question, eyes still closed.  
He couldn’t find his voice, so he only squeezed her hand in response.  
She opened her eyes and released a quiet breath that sounded like a mix between a relieved sigh and a surprised gasp. And then her face was buried in his chest and his free arm was wrapped awkwardly around her shoulders.  
They sat like that, awkwardly but too overjoyed to care, for a long time. And then Clarke moved, easing Bellamy’s head down onto the furs. She crawled over and lay beside him, curling into him, her head on his shoulder and her hand balling into a fist in his shirt. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and twisted a couple fingers into her hair.  
At some point, his vocal cords started working again and he mustered the energy to say something to her.  
“You’re the only thing that got me through that mountain and back here, you know.”  
She didn’t respond.  
“What I’m saying is, Lexa’s wrong.”  
He was winded from just those two sentences.  
Clarke was still and silent for a moment, and then she turned her head slightly and placed a light kiss on his shoulder. She nestled her head back where it had been, and Bellamy turned to place a kiss on the top of her head, leaving his nose in her hair.  
They weren’t the type to come right out and say it. Neither of them were. But they said it in their own ways.  
I’m sorry was the soft kiss she had placed on his shoulder.  
I forgive you was his responding kiss on her head.  
Never leave again was her fist in his shirt.  
Not without you was his fingers in her hair.  
And I love you was the easiest sleep either of them had gotten in weeks lying there holding on to each other with no intention of letting go.


End file.
